


Close Your Eyes and be Still

by thechapwiththearms



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: .....to lovers?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Could Be Canon, Doctor/Patient, Drabble, Enemies to Friends, Episode Fix-it, Fluff, M/M, Mental Illness, Random & Short, Short & Sweet, Spoilers, You Decide, brief mention of major character death, could be read as platonic ig, just really really soft, period typical toxic masculinity, physical affection, s05e04, soft, under 1000 words, you know which one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 09:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechapwiththearms/pseuds/thechapwiththearms
Summary: Neither of them are emotionally articulate, but that doesn't mean Dwight won't try to help the uncharacteristically fragile George Warleggan.Set during/after the heartbreaking scene in S05E04 when Dwight finally convinces George of Elizabeth's death.





	Close Your Eyes and be Still

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you can consider this a fix-it fic because I love the increased amount of scenes between these two but I felt that this one could have been slightly more tender/heartfelt.

“The last face she saw was yours” Dr. Enys assured softly.

With that, George Warleggan broke. All of a sudden, Dwight saw sobs wrack the man's body like he had never seen before, and it was like a blow to the stomach. Though he and his current patient had never seen eye-to-eye, he could not help but feel a reactive pang of sadness and grief when tears flowed so freely from the banker’s usually stern eyes. George made his way to sit down at the foot of his bed, unable to stand, being so consumed with the acceptance of Elizabeth's untimely death. Dwight just stood. Stood, swallowing thickly to reign in tears. Stood, because he knew not what he could do. There was something about seeing the man in this state that tore him up inside.

Still unsure of himself, and after what he was sure was far too long to leave a sobbing man without comfort, the doctor moved timidly to sit beside George. The latter did not look up, or even register the other’s increased proximity, still sniffing into his hands with relentless, heartbreaking fervour. Dwight was at a loss. Being a man of science, he had never been the most emotionally articulate, and whilst it was true that he had more sympathy for others than most of his peers, he was never quite sure how to demonstrate this. Usually, his (often superior) medical care was enough, but he was aware that what George required was real human affection, something both men had learned early on in life was not to be given at one’s liberty.

Slowly, as if attempting not to scare him off, Dwight placed a gentle hand on the weeping man’s shoulder.

“George.” He urged, barely audible.

The mentioned looked over the top of his hands like a scared child. He seemed apprehensive, ashamed even. He replaced his hands to their position over his tired eyes and bowed his head, taking a deep but unsteady breath and sighing loudly.

“What must you think of me?” His voice was muffled and distorted by his hands.

“I- George, I-”

The doctor's loss for words embarrassed him. Instead, he thought, he should just let his actions convey his thoughts, as he so often did. Removing his hand from George’s shoulder just as gently as he first put it there, Dwight withdrew his handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and brought his own hand up to that of his trembling companion, signalling him to show his face. Every slight movement from either man had the medic biting back tears of his own. He felt an obligation to stay emotionally stable in his attempts to comfort a man in such a fragile state. With some hesitation, George obliged and removed his hands from his face. Dwight could have sobbed at the sight; the grieving man’s face was red and tear-stained, and his eyes were strained and possessed a look of incurable, helpless melancholy. 

Tentatively, Dwight brought the silken handkerchief up to his friend’s (were they friends?) eyes and began to lightly wipe the tears from underneath them. Constantly meeting George’s gaze to ensure he was not uncomfortable with the proceedings, the nervous doctor continued to dab gently at his face, ensuring it was clean of tears. When it was, though, Dwight found himself continuing, running the smooth fabric across the warm, flushed cheeks beneath it; he was unsure whether he was doing this because he thought it would genuinely comfort the man, or because he did not know what else to do. Either way, George was calmer and more at peace in this moment than anyone had seen him in recent months, and he eased his eyes shut and sighed, not quite in contentment, but grasping for a similar tone.

After a few minutes carried on in this fashion, Dwight stopped, and a pair of now-dry eyes opened once again, this time with what could only be described as the very faint ghost of a smile gracing the adjacent lips. Without hesitation, George fell into the doctor’s arms, wrapping his own around the torso of the man opposite him, who in turn drew his patient into a tight hug with George’s head buried neatly into his chest. Dwight threaded a calloused hand through the brown hair now pooling beneath his chin.

“You're alright, George. You're alright.”

“Getting there.” George mumbled.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this was super short - I couldn't really think of any way to lengthen it, given that the original scene was pretty short too. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Any and all mistakes are my own.


End file.
